Life wasn't meant to be like this
by Angelic Devil217
Summary: Brads got an unexpected visitor but what does he want. Please Read+Reveiw
1. Life wasn't supposed to be like this

Hiya!!

My second H I and yes I am continuing with my other story but inspiration has dried up on that one, but it will be back.

Disclaimer – not mine

When Brad was twelve he imagined being a pro-soccer player or a millionaire or some crazy childish shit like that.

 Not flipping burgers at Burger King to pay for his tuition fees, he'd always figured Randy would be the one to go to university, make it big as a journalist or something like that, get married and have a perfect little family with a perfect house and a perfect dog.

 And knowing Randy the perfect little wife would be Lauren.

But here Brad was at UCLA and there Randy was. Dead.

 Car crash. Correction. Some punks high on dope knocked Randys car – plus Lauren – down an embankment, it cart wheeled and landed belly-up at the bottom. Randy and Lauren both died.

 So did mom.

 I wanted to get outta there and Uni was the best reason, Mark was fifteen when I left, he's eighteen now, I haven't seen him since Labour Day two years ago. I was in my last year, studying medicine, can you believe this? The great Bradley Michael Taylor, BMOC and all round jock, is going to med school next year. No I couldn't either.

 Weird world huh? A world where I end up a doctor, a world where my little brother dies at sixteen and my youngest brother gets a cocaine addiction by the time **he** was sixteen.

 Not a weird world, a shit world.

 "Hey buddy where's my burger?"

 "Coming right up sir." Brad parroted as he'd been taught, before slapping a greasy burger into the burger bun and placing it in the awaiting bag before passing it to the haughty, son-of-a-bitch customer. "There you go sir and have a nice day." Brad said a sickly sweet, the-customer-is-always-right smile plastered on his face as the jerk walked away without even a "thanks man."

 "How may I help…..you." Brad asked his smile fading as eh addressed the next customer.

 A middle-aged woman with short brown hair accompanied by three sons, two blondes and a brunette. All looking between seven and ten. As the lady began to order, Brad distinctly heard the brunette mutter, "Oh man" Almost identical to Randys childhood catchphrase.

 Watching this family, Brad realized, was like looking back into the past and seeing his own childhood. It gave him a frightening chill up his spine as he imagined this family if they ended up like his, the brunette wouldn't even be there, the oldest would have long since disappeared, the mother would be locked away in a sanatorium somewhere and the youngest would be beyond recognition caught in the evil clutches of that ageless bitch drug addiction.

 Brad didn't like that mental image to much, hurriedly he got their order and willed them to leave, which thankfully they did. Though not soon enough for Brad.

 Shaking slightly Brad took his break early, his friend Tanya agreeing to cover for him.

 Outside leaning against the wall Brad took deep steadying breaths and managed to calm down just a little. "Why'd it get so hard all of a sudden?" He asked himself out loud. 

He knew the answer; he need only glance at his watch to know why.

 The silver digits that showed the date on his watch reminded him it was 8th September (1)

 Randy's birthday, the anniversary of Randys death. Did I mention life was a bitch?

A/N You like? It's just a prologue. I'll continue if I get support what's the point if people don't like it? I get the feeling this may not be as popular what with Randy being dead and Mark a dope addict ah well I like drama and angst.

 Well review and thanks for reading!

(1) I don't know Randys birthday, I can't remember, but Sept 8th is Jonathan Taylor Thomas's birthday so it's a good substitute.


	2. Compare your life to mine, now whose is ...

            A/N Hiya I'm back with chapter 2

_Disclaimer – Not mine_

He'd gotten used to it. He had to really.

Coming home to an empty apartment was torture for a company-loving guy like the one Brad used to be. Times change.

 Throwing his denim across the back of the easy chair Brad noticed two things, the broken window and his brother sitting on the couch.

 "Hey Brad." Mark greeted him hollowly.

 "Mark what the hell are you doing here?" Brad asked icily.

 "Gee don't welcome me or nothing nice like that big bro." Mark mocked him insolently.

 "Mark I'm serious why aren't you at home?" Brad asked standing in front of Marks black clad form slumped on the couch, his hands on his hips.

 Mark raised his brown eyes smirking cockily. "Because my moms crazy, my dads a drunk and my eldest brother ran out and left me, all because my selfish, perfect other brother decided to die!" Mark finished shouting now.

 Brad backhanded him across the face.

 Mark raised his head shocked, "No Mark don't look at me shocked you had that coming. I can understand you being mad at me I'm a coward. But I will not let you sit there and blame it on Randy. And frankly your drugs problem isn't anyone's fault – except yours."

 When Mark Taylor stood to full height he was as tall as Brad, maybe a little taller, and for Brad talking to a younger brother who could look you in the eye had never made him comfortable, he'd never had that problem with Randy.

 "Shut up Brad." Mark replied casually stepping away. Brad watched him disbelievingly where'd the meaningful conversation go?

 "Mark-" Brad started 

 "Whoa, whoa, whoa who the hell and what the hell?" Jesse Hunter, Brad's roommate asked bewildered as he stepped into the apartment

 "Hey Jesse uh this is my brother Mark, Mark Taylor Jesse Hunter, Jesse, Mark and don't worry he'll fix the window. Won't you Mark." Not a question an order.

 "Sure Brad I'd be glad to." Mark drawled syrupy sweet

 "Hey Mark it's fine, my buddy Billie can fix it."

 "Yeah who's he?"

 "She. And she's in my Western Culture class, her majors carpentry though." Jesse explained tossing his backpack onto the opposite couch.

 "So what's yours Brad? Major I mean." Mark asked his eyebrows dipping inwards.

 "Pre-Med." Brad replied through gritted teeth.

 "How bout you Jesse?" 

 "Art." Jesse replied simply

 "Wow I'd love to take film classes I wanna be a film director one day." Mark said playing the wholesome American teen, just here visiting his brother.

 "Yeah, our other roommate does that, Media Studies." Jesse informed him. "Nicky you should talk to him."

 "Yeah I think I will."  Mark replied. "So there are you, Brad and Nicky?" 

 "Nicky Lawrence, yeah, and Jack Callaway he's a pre-law though." 

 "That must make rent easy." Mark observed.

 "Yeah right, " Jesse laughed, "Between college courses and living, rent moneys kinda thin especially here in LA, and an apartment like this in the centre of town, we've all got jobs – which shit reminds me I've got a shift in twenty minutes and I gotta shower see you in a few!" Jesse called as he disappeared into the bathroom.

 "Yeah nice meeting you!" Mark called after him. "You got yourself set here Brad, good apartment good friends, no family to hassle you, and I bet you've got a girlfriend." Mark said mockingly. "Not like me huh?" And almost as a sadistic afterthought Mark added, "It's like you stole Randy's picture perfect life. Well the one he would have had anyway."

 "Shut up Mark" Brad replied casually mirroring Marks carefree tone he had before Jesse entered.

 Marks eyes flashed for a second before abruptly sitting down again, Brad watched him through narrowed eyes, "When are you going home Mark?" he asked levelly.

 "I'm not, I'll stay here with you." Mark looked at Brad, his eyes suddenly open and scared, and Brad saw the brother who died with Randy all that time ago, "I want what you've got Brad." Brad smiled and sat down next to him, 

 "You can sleep on the couch, I'll enrol you in West LA High, you get in one fight, play truant, or get in **any** trouble you're going home got that?" Brad asked his hand on Marks shoulder.

 "Thanks big bro." Mark replied simply.

 "It's what Randy would have done." Brad explained.

 "Yeah maybe but now it's what Brad would do." Mark corrected sounding drained and tired.

 "Well I've got homework, I'll bet anything Jack'll stay at Nancy's tonight, Nicky won't be back for ages he's got a project due he'll probably be in the editing room until they physically remove him and Jesse's on the late shift at Strarbucks so you get settled in okay?" Brad told him.

 "Sure thanks Brad."

 "No problem, just promise me one thing Mark, you'll try." Brad asked.

Once again Brad saw that raw emotion shining in Marks eyes, that were the same blue as his own and Randys, "I'll try as hard as I can Brad I promise."

 "Good okay well I'm gonna hit the books." Brad told him standing up, "No I'm gonna go talk to Darla." He amended.

 "Darla?"

 "The girlfriend you mentioned."

 "Oh"

 As Brad turned to leave the room he thought of one more thing, swivelling round he frowned, "Mark?"

 "Yeah Brad?"

 "And no more drugs."

 "No more drugs, ever." Mark replied biting his lip, his eyes downcast.

 Brad smiled and entered his room, dialling Darla's number the smile was replaced by a frown, maybe Darla would know what the hell was going on, she was a phsyc student maybe she could explain Marks sudden huge change of heart. And maybe she could sort out his own head. 

A/N Okay so is Mark faking it or is a real cry for help?

Next chapter hopefully soon (same for my other story)


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